Chapter 69: Think Twice
"I'll see you tomorrow evening then?" Huxley dug his shaking hands deep into his pockets. In the bottom of his left pocket was Nox's last letter, he clutched it tight and turned to Zephyr.
Neither Sera or Zephyr answered him. Sera stared at the ground, listening to the mechanical voice announcing the schedule of the train.
Huxley gripped her arms tight. She winced and he loosened his grip with a quiet apology. "Did you even hear what I said?"
She nodded. "I did, I was just thinking about…Lissa, Miel and Nox."
"I need you and Zephyr to follow me home soon, okay?"
"That might be a while." Zephyr's voice came out strangled. Like Sera, he didn't look too good either. "I have some things I have to take care of."
"Doesn't matter." He brushed off Zephyr's words and bit his lips, hesitating on his next few words. "Zephyr, get on the train tomorrow and bring Sera with you. Clarisse is going to be upset if neither of you follow me home."
It was unfair and cruel of him to use his own sister against Zephyr but it was his only choice. If Zephyr stayed behind, he feared Sera would do the same. The two were always together lately.
At the mention of Clarisse, Zephyr became more distant. He let out a tired broken breath. He nodded without a sound, brushing his unkempt hair back.
Sera took a look at the massive clock suspended in the middle of the station. "Don't worry about me too much."
"And who will I worry about? Hmm." He patted her head and smiled. "Come home soon. I mean it. Don't make us worry about you."
"You all do that anyways."
"And we'll do that more given what's coming…" His voice trailed off as he took a step back into the train and off the platform. "Lyme's here too." She heard him say and she looked up.
At the end of the train was another former victor, Lyme and Nova. The two were in a deep discussion, too busy to notice her or Huxley. But it was clear that neither were staying another day in the arena despite their 'tributes' still being in the game. They were both leaving soon.
"Listen to Estelle when things get bad."
Huxley's body shook and he let out a few pained breaths. His throat was dry and lips felt like they'd been sealed. He couldn't get another word out in front of Sera, though he had so much to say.
Another sigh and he rubbed his burning throat while his eyes moistened with tears. His mouth was full of words but they just wouldn't come out.
Sera bit her lips and swallowed back her tears. She couldn't cry in front of him. If she cried, he wouldn't leave.
"Listen to Estelle." She said again with a strained voice. "Okay? Don't let Lissa and Nox out of your sight." Those two were too good for their own good.
"And take care of Clarisse." Zephyr's voice was quiet as the whistling wind but clear as a raging storm.
Huxley's wide panicked eyes fell on them and he tried to reach forward towards them.
With a sad smile, Emilia pulled them back, shielding them with her body. He reached forward towards them but he couldn't get to them.
"Sera—"
The train door sliced close in his face, trapping inside as he pressed himself against the glass.
Desperately, he tried to mouth his last words to her but she had already turned away as tears escaped her eyes.
She let them fall and sniffed as the mechanical voice announced the train's departure. Emilia silently held out a handkerchief in one hand for her while waved Huxley off with another.
Not another word was spoken between the three as Huxley desperately tried to mouth his final words to her.
"Train to District 5 and beyond is departing."
Sera shifted her weight from one foot to another. She eyed the shut door while on the screen, another day of the games was live with Caesar occasionally cutting in for his commentary. While six Peacekeepers guarded the room from outside with solemn silence.
A few mentors grumbled their complaints under their breaths but no one would dare to voice their complaints. A look at Augustus made them bite their tongue.
The favorite son of Panem still showed signs of the violence of yesterday. His bruises had darkened and his wounds mended but the healers purposely left the scars and wounds unhidden, out in the open as a warning to his fellow victors.
From the corner of her eyes, she could see Haymitch subtly motioning towards Nova and Reef, sitting together, still like dolls Sera often saw in the Foxhalo shops that her family could never afford.
Lyme was gone and so were the mentors from Eleven and Six. Nova hadn't left. Sera expected her to be gone too but the day had slipped past them and Nova had not left. Instead, she was huddled close with Reef and his partner.
Sera waved her hands in front of the screen between the different footages of the different tributes still in the game. She almost paused when Finnick's face came on the small screen in front of her. He along with his allies were already on the big screen, still alive.
With a stiff hand, she moved past his face and stopped when Leora's came into view. She was still in game surprisingly and Sera was sure tha—
"Where's Huxley Foret?" Haymitch slid into the seat next to hers, the seat that should've been Huxley's.
Sera stopped and looked at him with a dull look and motioned towards the Observation Room, telling him silently to look for Huxley himself. She wouldn't give him that answer, not yet anyway. She had another thing to focus on: Leora.
"You're worried about Leora Shelley?" Sera ignored him.
"Am I not supposed to be? She's representing District 5." Sera slipped her hair behind her ears.
"How kind of you but that's Leora Shelley."
"And?"
"You know she's an walking emotional timebomb." He said and she rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised you sent her anything."
"Just some dried fruits and nuts along with a purifying water bottle. Zephyr helped too."
He chuckled. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're actually trying to give her a fighting chance."
"Who knows?" She replied with a shrug. "And what brings you here?"
"Nothing. Just thought you looked a little lonely." He looked around for a quick second and leaned back. "It's emptier than before." She nodded. "Foret's not gone without reason now, is he?" She said nothing at first so he pressed on. "He wouldn't leave you behind and if you left, Zephyr would go too but here you are."
"Here I am." She echoed back dryly. "Lyme's gone too."
"I noticed. Numbers are a little lower than usual, I can't imagine that it's normal."
"It's not." She confessed.
"Beetee's web is wider than I thought." Haymitch smiled wryly. "Something's coming, isn't it?"
"Seems likely." She hummed under her breath and tilted her head to the side. "If I were you I'd pack my bags too and start getting ready to run."
He laughed, not a bitter laugh but a tired one that drew the attention of the Peacekeepers. She had to move a little further down to distance herself from him.
He didn't notice her move, anxiously busy following Peeta and Katniss on the screen. He did care for the two even if he said he didn't. Sera swallowed down the bitter feeling of guilt rising like bile in the back of her throat and looked away.
That caught Haymitch's attention. "You think they'll make it out?"
All she knew was about the rebels' plans outside the arena, nothing inside. All she knew was Katniss was going to come out alive in some way or form. Beetee and Wiress too somehow.
She knew most of the victors in the arena had a part to play: to get Katniss Everdeen out. She just didn't know how they would do that.
"If I knew I wouldn't be sitting here."
Haymitch smiled wryly and shook his head. "That's not true. You'd be here anyway." He motioned to the screen towards Finnick and Sera stopped moving for a second.
"...Leora is still in the game." Sera pulled the screen closer to her.
"You know it wouldn't kill some people to admit their feelings."
"Are you talking about Katniss?"
Haymitch sighed. "And you I guess."
"I know myself and I know that right now I don't have time for those…feelings."
Haymitch went quiet. A myriad of emotions flickered through his face but the most obvious one that stayed was guilt. "Time's a funny thing."
"Haymitch." Sera's cold voice pulled him away from his painful memories.
His eyes grew narrow and sharp at her call. He tilted his screen down towards him and pinched it to focus on Katniss and Peeta. What he wanted to say was lost in his thoughts. Yet, a few flickers of regret flowed out whenever he looked at Peeta.
Shifting in her seat, Sera moved a little closer to him. "You asked me if something is going to happen and I'm going to say 'yes'. This game isn't just a 'celebration' for them."
"It's an execution for us." Haymitch clasped his hands together and turned up the volume of his screen, ignoring the stares he got in response.
She kept her face blank and her voice low, taking out a mirror from her pocket and opening it. "It doesn't matter if we went in or stayed out. We need to get out of Capitol soon."
His movements were much slower than before as if he was being dragged by his past.
"Why didn't you leave?"
"I'm giving myself another day or two." She lied. "Though, I don't really think I have to leave."
"You know you're not that different from them and us." He motioned to the screen towards the star-crossed lovers.
"But I am different." She had the President's temporary favor and the respect of the Capitolites.
"That's going to bite you in the back." He murmured and she said nothing.
On the screen, Leora stared at the artificial moon. Leora used to joke with Wells that she wanted to climb up and try to touch it once. Wells would grumble out a mean response but laugh at her silly jokes nonetheless. But now Leora had no jokes left and Wells was gone.
The empty metal canister of dried fruit and nuts was in her hands, wet from her trying to wash off the crumbs and use the container as a water vessel. But not all water in the arena was safe to drink, anyone who had studied the games or trained for them knew that.
Leora didn't seem to care, she stared at the moon and at the empty container. A few clusters of magnolias at the bottom stared back at her and only at her, not the camera.
Leora's lips went up into a small smile as she let out a small satisfied sound.
Tentatively, Leora went over to the water's edge again. She dipped the metal container into the salty sea. It fell apart in her hands like putty. Another dip and the metal started to flow with the water, running away from Leora's grip. Another dip and it was gone.
Leora let out a feigned cold and bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Can't let me have one good thing." She said, glaring up at the sky.
"What's she talking about?" Haymitch asked.
"Nothing." Sera replied, ignoring his inquisitive gaze. "It's not relevant to what we were discussing." She'd choke on her tongue before she told anyone that she tried.
Haymitch raised his brow and opened his mouth to say something else but he closed it promptly. There was no telling if Sera wouldn't get upset or angry and leave if he really spoke his mind. He couldn't read her at all. "Beetee said he'd get Katniss out, I don't know how but he promised."
"And now you're wondering if I know how."
"Do you?"
Sera paused and looked at him. Haymitch stared blankly back, unmoving yet there was a hint of desperation and hope in his eyes that took her aback.
"No." She answered plainly. "The Gamemaker is very particular about some of his plans. He doesn't share everything with everyone."
"Makes sense." He cracked his neck and leaned back. "A good way to stop leaks. Is that how you deal with your business too—hide pieces of it in every other person?"
She shook her head. "I usually just kill them." Haymitch paused, taken aback by her sudden burst of honesty. "It's easier that way."
"What'd you just say?" His face darkened and he looked away.
"It's a joke, Haymitch. Lighten up." She replied with a plastic smile but Haymitch didn't relax. "I work in Capitol hospitals and an orphanage as a volunteer, remember? I usually just talk." And then kill them.
"I'm starting to regret talking to you."
That made her laugh. It wouldn't be the first time someone had regrets meeting her.
Leora took out her hand from the water and flung her backpack down onto the ground with a grunt of anger, cursing out a storm. She took out a knife and made it stand on the sand floor, staring at it intently.
The shadow of the knife moved an inch and desperately Leora dug it out. She heard them before she saw those monkey-like mutts. A wild twisted smile appeared on her face and she glanced at the water again.
Her hands shook violently as she raised her hands, one with the knife and one without. With a vicious victorious grin, she sliced open her palm with the knife and held it out. The magnolias in her cut hand dyed a vivid crimson, wilting slightly under the it's new color.
"Flowers?" Haymitch pointed at the screen and Sera lowered his hand. "You got her flowers. Cute," He remarked dryly. "And useless."
"Those are magnolias." Sera replied. "Edible and medicinal."
"How kind of you but it's still useless."
"We'll see."
Crazed screeches greeted Leora back as hordes of mutts dove out from the foliage. Leora stumbled back, her bloody hand still up as she slung the backpack over her shoulder, running backwards towards the tallest tree near her.
Leora quickly climbed the tree, kicking the mutts and flinging them towards the sea before she managed to get to the top branch. The branch was sturdy but under the weight of her and mutts, it wouldn't hold her for long.
A quick glance behind her at the artificial moon, Leora took out another knife. She threw it into the air once and caught it before it landed before she threw it in the air again, too high.
The knife flew up and up until it was close to the moon. A single touch and the forcefield repelled it down towards her and the mutts at blazing speeds. Leora moved aside and let the electrified knife impale a small horde.
As a warning the gamemakers increased the number of mutts. The sky over her head crackled violently, warning her to not to touch the shield around the arena.
Leora wasn't trying to break the forcefield. That would be a stupid idea.
Sera expected her to throw the magnolias and spread them through the forest below.
Leora didn't let go of a single magnolia, clutching it very tightly as she kept her balance. A few blood-tainted petals fell through the gaps of her fingers.
"You were saying?" Haymitch looked at her and back at the screen.
Sera held out her hand to his face. "Wait."
The petals fell to the ground and the mutts dove straight towards it, tearing the faces and flesh of the other mutts nearby just to get a single taste of the flower.
Leora raised a brow at the scene and crushed the petals. She scattered the petals below and waited.
A second was all it took for the mutts to lose themselves into a frenzy.
"Now she has to run."
"She's not going to run." Haymitch shook his head.
Sera glared at him. "You don't know that."
"Seraphine."
Any minute, Sera expected Leora to fall and run away from the mutts or swing to another tree.
"You know Leora." Haymitch said grimly. "You know everyone here," He motioned towards the screen. "And in there."
Leora stayed rooted. She smiled again at the moon, ignoring the mutts for a second before she took out another knife. She drew back her hand and flung the knife at the mutts coming towards her.
A sickening squelch echoed through the forest. Silence followed before the crazed screeches became louder. The mutts pounced on Leora. She flung them high towards the lake and sky.
Some mutts drowned in the lake nearby and some electrified themselves against the sky. The moon dimmed a little inside the arena, false clouds quickly moved to cover up the dimness.
The screen flickered to Finnick, Peeta and Katniss. The mutts had surrounded them. Katniss was shooting arrows at the mutts while Finnick speared them. Jet's partner, another victor from Six came through the thicket, saving Peeta.
That gave Finnick enough time to take out a canister, a sponsored gift he'd gotten earlier. A flash of a faint carving of flowers appeared on the screen. A yarrow.
He opened the canister and a few dried blossoms of magnolias fell onto his hands. The screams of the mutts grew louder at the sight and he laughed in response. Like Leora, he crushed the blossoms in his hands and threw them in the air.
Peeta grabbed Jet's partner and Finnick grabbed Katniss, pulling them towards the beach. The four ran through the woods while the mutts dove into the forest floor, fighting over a single petal of a magnolia, tearing each other apart just for a taste.
"What was that?" Peeta yelled out at Finnick.
Finnick didn't answer him, ducking and dodging past branches and mutts ambushing them. He pulled Peeta forward and swung his trident with his other hand, impaling a few mutts. He threw them to the side and quickly glanced behind him.
The metal canister had dissolved into the water and no signs of it were there apart from the glittering water.
"That one's on you too, isn't it?"
She said nothing but her smile faded when the screen switched to Leora.
Leora wasn't running. She should've been up and running in the other direction like Finnick, Peeta and Katniss. Why was she just standing there?
"Leora's not going to run." Haymitch repeated.
Confusion and fear painted her face. She didn't turn to Haymitch, her eyes were on the screen. She covered her mouth and drew back from the screen in horror at Leora's lack of movement.
Leora wasn't going to run.
With no allies or knives left in her bag, she could do anything but drop down from the tree. She grabbed stones from the dirt floor and pelt them with it. But the monkey-like mutts were vicious and bloodthirsty.
In the background, she could hear faded screams of Katniss but Sera wasn't focusing on her. Haymitch got up and clasped his hands together in a silent prayer while he watched Katniss and Peeta.
Leora lost her footing, the mutts pounced on her, tearing into her skin and flesh.
She flung some of the mutts through the forest. The mutts were relentless, with each mutt she removed, another took its place.
She rushed to the water's edge and dove straight to it.
The mutts didn't follow her. They were too busy feasting on the blood, skin and flesh that remained on the dirt ground to follow the rest of her into the water.
The clock ticked by and the mutts with a screech scurried off while Leora's body floated on the lake's edge.
A loud cannon echoed in the distance.
Leora was gone.
Haymitch's voice broke through her thoughts. "I'm sorry," He muttered, his gaze heavy. "But this is what she wanted."
He was right.
This was what Leora wanted all along.
This was why she volunteered.
Sera's hand instinctively moved to her throat as Leora's face flashed on the screen. She lasted two days in the arena, longer than Wells.
Then there was another cannon heard and Haymitch craned his neck towards the screen in a quick motion of desperation.
It wasn't Katniss or Peeta.
A morphling. Jet's partner. She was gone too.
Leora's and Jet's partner's faces appeared side by side as the counter of deaths increased by two on the side of the screens. District 5's image turned black with Wells and Leora's images fading into a somber gray.
And it was winter in District 5.
Sera was in her kitchen at the Victors' Village. Night had fallen but the pale moonlight reflected on the snow engulfed the entire district in an ominous white glow.
She stood by the kitchen window, staring at Lake Nike, mostly alone. But she wasn't alone.
Leora was out there by the lake hunched over and tying heavy blocks to her feet. She paused and looked to the surrounding woods, then to the houses circling the lake.
Sera took a step back into the darkness of the kitchen. Her body was hidden from Leora's view. She watched in a strangled silence as the older victor dragged herself to the water's edge and breathed so heavily that her body shook.
Without a warning, Leora threw herself into the lake. She disappeared into the abyss. But she wouldn't be gone too long as Wells dove in straight after.
Seconds later the two came out of the water and into the freezing winter chill, chattering and complaining.
Then it was a late summer night and Sera wasn't alone in her kitchen but in the Presidential Palace. She pulled at the sleeve of her dress uncomfortably. She'd missed the games for the afternoon and evening, busy with a forced check-up at the hospital and shadowing President Snow to a few meetings, just to act as his own personal poison taster.
The man in question was still as the painting that hung on his wall. His cold unflinching gaze on the screen with a strangely tense Plutarch stood in the corner of a room.
"How many was that?" President Snow turned towards Plutarch.
Plutarch pursed his lips into a thin and feigned confident smile. "Eight on day one and four on day two so far in the recaps."
"Four?"
"District 5 and 6 are out along with Four's Mags Flanagan. The number does increase to eight later on."
Ignoring Plutarch's later words, President Snow turned to Sera. "District 5 is out."
Sera lifted the lid of the white china teapot and crushed dried red rose-like petals into the pot, stirring it. She poured out four cups of tea, one for each of the people in the room and left some extra in the teapot.
"Leora put up a fight but unfortunately, she wasn't good enough." She quickly discarded the dregs into a small pot and threw them into the fire to burn.
President Snow eyed the pale gold-red tea in the cup while Scarus reached for one of the cups and took a sip while President Snow waited. Sera wasn't stupid enough to poison the President nor was she reckless enough but he didn't trust her to not try.
"You sent Leora sponsored gifts." President Snow stated.
"She was my 'tribute' and a representative of my district. I couldn't stand by."
The President hummed under his breath, saying nothing once more. His bony finger circled the silver rimmed mouth of his teacup.
Sera cleared her throat and passed Plutarch his cup. Plutarch took it without complaint and abandoned it promptly without a word. He had no intention to drink her tea or anything in that office or palace.
"Even though she never looked out for you?" Scarus said.
It was true that Leora was known to be selfish and often violent, yes but she still traded her life for Sera's. And yet Sera didn't say her thoughts out loud. She didn't want to or think she had to.
"I was doing my job, Consul."
A loud clatter echoed through the office and three heads snapped towards the source of the sound. Plutarch's twitching hand had dropped the teacup on the table. It was set aside for him, filled to the brim with glittering pale red tea but now it was coating the white marbled floors with shards of white china desperately clinging onto its remnants.
President Snow let out a deep sigh and waved his hands. "Plutarch." He drew out as an avox rushed forward to clean the mess.
"Forgive me, I made a mess." He covered his mouth to hide that damned grin on his face. "But I wanted to say, it's odd that you sent magnolias."
"They're in season."
"In season?" Sera nodded. "A funny coincidence." He clapped his hands together and the avox cleaning the mess, flinched in fear.
"Coincidence." Scarus echoed.
Plutarch hummed. "You know," He pointed to the monkey-like mutts on the screen just as they attacked Katniss and her alliance. "We fed the mutts magnolias along with some dried fruits and…nuts."
Helplessly, Sera blinked. "That is a coincidence. You know, I can't help but feel that you're—are you accusing me of attempting to rig the games?"
"A strange coincidence." Scarus said. "But Seraphine also sent Leora a purifying water container."
"Right." Sera repeated what Scarus said and added. "Given Leora's past behavior, I helped her as much as she would allow me to, which…" Scarus' fidgeted in his seat. "...I'm ashamed to admit, was nothing compared to the others. She doesn't even have allies unlike a certain pair of victors that you were supposed to be keeping an eye on."
The avox swept the mess aside and another took her place to wipe the floors. President Snow took a sip of the tea, glaring at Plutarch as he did so. His hands were quaking a little, whether it was because of anger or something else, Sera didn't care.
He paused. His fingers twitched and his right hand rose for a split second as if he was reaching for something but it fell to his neck. He pretended to pull his collar through his hazy vision and a strange focus on the shadows in the darkened corner of the room.
"I take it," President Snow changed the topic slowly with deep labored breaths, stifling another wave of oncoming bloody coughs. "Twelve is still in the game." He began to cough the minute he finished.
Sera passed him a handkerchief and drew back to her seat, letting Plutarch speak.
"Both victors." Plutarch confirmed quietly and President Snow let out a heavy sigh.
Scarus ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head in disappointment while Plutarch seemed unfazed by President Snow's disappointment.
On the other hand, Sera's eyes were trained on the screen. She was anticipating President Snow to throw his cup or anything at the wall like he did before or give her orders for something, anything. But he never did.
The room became silent, cold and dark.
Finnick was on the screen, his back turned to his allies as he stared down at the sandy floor and then up at the sky, running his fingers over the thin gold band on his wrist. A bitter smile on his beautiful lips.
Sera dug her nails into her palms and swallowed the wave of oncoming tears that threatened to spill from her gold-lined eyes. Mags' face was next to Finnick with Caesar's voice recounting Mags' life. A shortened version that didn't do her justice.
A younger Mags replaced the image of the older version next to Finnick, her first image as a victor. She seemed so unsure yet strong.
"And she mentored many victors for District 4." Caesar said among the shuffling images. "Most notably her last partner, Finnick Odair. Our thoughts are with Finnick Odair and we know Mags would be proud of him for making it this far."
A brief moment of silence followed Caesar's words. "And remember folks if you're planning to send in sponsored goods, you have to get pre-approval from the Ministry of Games. Rules change and all."
Caesar let out an awkward laugh and his voice cut off abruptly.
Finnick's image was pushed to the side and Mags' final moments replaced once more. She was one of the oldest living victors after all. Sera expected the Capitol to mourn her death more so than anyone else's.
She herself couldn't even look at the screen anymore but she had to. Yet in her mind, Mags was still here, so was her aunt. The two were there with Finnick, Estelle and the rest of her family and Estelle's family.
Mags was speaking slowly with breaks in between each sentence but nevertheless was in a deep conversation with her aunt about Finnick and her own family. Her aunt was laughing at something Mags said.
Zephyr was trying to get a word in between Ramiel and Finnick's conversation. While Nox stayed quietly by his mother's side, watching from the side.
She couldn't imagine that Mags was just gone. She'd let go of Finnick and walked to her death, letting the thick fog consume her whole with a smile.
Just like that, Mags was gone too.
Plutarch bowed his head and let out a shaky breath when he met Sera's gaze. His unspoken words were already on her mind. He was prepared for the deaths, anticipating them and so was she. She told herself she was.
But when she saw Mags' body slowly disappear in the fog accompanied with Finnick's heartbreaking cries, pleading her to come back.
"Look away." Eugene croaked into her ears. His shadow hung over her like an ax.
And she did.
Scarus clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Mags Flanagan should've never volunteered." He said, taking a seat next to Sera.
"She volunteered for Annie Cresta." Sera replied. "She mentored Annie. I don't think Annie was…stable enough to get back in–"
"It doesn't matter." President Snow cut in. "Annie Cresta or Mags Flanagan, it doesn't matter who went in." He took a sip of the tea Sera made and turned to her. "You didn't add enough tea leaves."
"Petals." Sera corrected. "It's a blend of rose tea."
"Then add more roses." He added even though the tea was turning a deep shade of red after the petals had been removed.
The President's cold hard eyes trembled and he blinked rapidly while red veins painted the whites of his eyes. He was a little distracted.
"The investigations." He merely said.
And Scarus sprang to report back. "We've gathered all the stylists and escorts from Districts 1 to 12." He took a file out and passed it to President Snow.
President Snow leafed it through and motioned for Scarus to continue but before he could, Plutarch grabbed the reports from Scarus' hands. "Consul Redcliff, isn't this a little too much?"
"It's not enough considering the commotion Twelve has made."
"They'll be dealt with soon."
"Will they?"
President Snow covered his mouth with his handkerchief, stifling both his sighs and coughs. His hazy eyes were moist and red out of sheer anger and anguish. Another sign of an attempted poisoning.
He nodded towards Sera and took a trembling sip of the warm tea, letting a deep sigh. "Consul Redcliff, did any of the stylists or escorts say anything."
"Most claim they have no idea what we asked them while Twelve's Cinna refused to answer a single question." Scarus replied.
"Nothing."
"Nothing." Scarus confirmed.
"Not even his birth name." Sera probed and Scarus shook his head. "Hmm. Maybe he's from the lower ends of the Capitol."
"He is." Scarus picked out a few sheets of paper and passed it to the President. "Lower ends of the Capitol, exact origin unknown. He somehow managed to get a scholarship and managed to convince Cygnus Sarto to take him in."
"Oh." Plutarch leaned forward. "Are you accusing Cygnus of orchestrating this? You know that old man's been in retirement for a few years now."
"I know." Scarus leafed through another few pages. "I looked up Cygnus too. He and you attended university at the same—that was interesting."
"And now you're accusing me of something."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Head Gamemaker. You're the one who started accusing people here." Scarus reached for his cup and nodded his head towards Sera. "And I'm just repeating what I learned but you'll be relieved to know Cygnus has a history of sponsoring orphans."
"So he's not involved?" President Snow questioned and Scarus confirmed it.
"Not in any way I could find." Scarus grinned at Plutarch who feigned fear. "Cygnus has a clean record. Game stylist along with couture designer, began his career as stylist for District 1 after his graduation, worked with districts 3 and 4 then ended his career as a stylist for District 5. During that time, he mentored many stylists including the current and former stylists of District 1 to 10."
"Nothing out of the ordinary then." Plutarch pulled at his collar.
Scarus tilted his head to the side and nodded. "So it seems." He passed a sheet of paper to President Snow and carried on. "Cinna was mentored alongside three other stylists and none of them made a special request to be placed as stylist for Twelve."
President Snow didn't believe that. His brows furrowed and he patted his sweaty forehead, letting out a tired sigh as he did so. "This is useless." He mumbled with a shake of his head. "There is no way a mere stylist could have the gall to rebel."
"Maybe he's eccentric." Plutarch offered.
He was ignored by the President who waited for Sera's opinion. Sera was quiet like always, lost in her thoughts. He let out a cough, not a bloody one and Sera sat up straight.
President Snow wanted her thoughts. The former image of cold calm he carried was crumb "He's not going to talk." Sera said. "He seemed to really care for the people around him and if I have to guess, I think he might've been sponsored by other people—I don't think Cygnus is—has the ability to pull this off."
"He doesn't have enough funds." Scarus stated and Sera nodded. "A rebellion or a rebellious act is expensive and between his expenses for Sarto's, his brand and his godchildren, he doesn't have the funds. Cinna might be operating on his own."
The Capitol anthem boomed and Caesar came back on the screen, still as loud as ever, gone was his somberness, replaced by that grating faux jovial voice that made Sera want to throw something at the television. Plutarch and Sera shared a quick glance and turned away from each other.
"Considering Eleven's riots and the recent waves of…discord in Panem—I find that hard to believe." Sera tilted her head to the side and let out a pained sigh. "Last summer when I was in the Capitol—"
She paused and waited for President Snow's sign, a sign that she could let the two men know what he knew.
President Snow flippantly gave her his permission, beckoning her to continue.
"I was tasked to observe the Capitol people and there were some…complaints about the state of things and some even talked about…rebellious things. President Snow thankfully dealt with that and kept peace in Panem but I'm not sure if Cinna was part of it."
Plutarch let out a laugh. "Ah, so that was your job." He said. "I'm sure you think you did a great job Miss Reza but what you're doing now is fear mongering."
She scoffed with wide eyes and helplessly looked at a displeased President Snow. "I'm just…being cautious."
"I'm sure you are but my game is on the line here."
"Your game?" She echoed again, looking side to side in disbelief. "This is bigger than the Hunger Games. Besides, you were the one who made the complaints about Twelve overshadowing the games and they're not just overshadowing the games—"
"They are disrupting Panem." President Snow stated and Sera nodded. "And it was your task, Plutarch, to deal with it."
"The game is still going on." Plutarch reminded them, pulling at his collar once again. He didn't seem uncomfortable. No, he had that carefree smug grin on his face that told her that he wasn't scared or worried about the President's anger at all. "Give me another day and I'll give you all a game no one will ever forget. Until then, I think we should all wait and see."
"Wait?" President Snow echoed. "For what? For you to fail. I didn't call you back for that."
"Mags Flanagan was the oldest living victor of the Hunger Games." Plutarch stated calmly and turned to the President, leaning his head forward. President Snow stopped. "She was the living history of the games—one who remembered the inception of the games itself."
"Enough." President Snow hissed out and pulled at his collar. "I don't need to be reminded of the tragedy of Mags Flanagan." A hint of weakness in his voice, a mere touch of a strange emotion Sera couldn't make out. He didn't care about Mags. She knew he didn't but it was something else, something she'd rather not think about.
"As I was saying," Plutarch paused and then carried on. "I am doing the task you gave me to the best of my abilities."
"You have two more days Plutarch." President Snow brought his teacup to his thin pale lips. "Two more days and that's it."
The teacup hung in the air by his bony fingers and Sera sat up straight. He stared into the cup, through the pale red-gold liquid and nodded.
"Any more failures and I'll have Seraphine schedule an appointment for you with the Cranes."
If Plutarch had been any other Gamemaker, he'd have turned pale as a sheet and blubbering mess, pleading for forgiveness but the old Gamemaker simply sighed and nodded, grumbling under his breath that he didn't even want to come back. He seemed too nonchalant and unafraid for his own good.
Sera envied and despised that. Here she sat, calculating every thought, move and word that came out of her mouth while Plutarch seemed so effortlessly unafraid.
Even without the rebellion, he'd survive. He was a Heavensbee and had the trust of the President. She was just another victor, a pawn on the board.
The young Consul moved quickly, eager to get a word in and remind everyone that he was there. "Then about Cinna–"
"Imprison him and deal with him on your own." Plutarch didn't let him bring Cinna back. "You hardly have anything on him or any of the other stylists to hold a public trial or execution."
"I know." Scarus finished the last of his tea and pushed the cup away. "That's why I'm investigating them. I even had to rely on some rumors."
Plutarch giggled. "Rumors?" He asked. His smile died quickly when another teacup was placed in front of him. Sera, on the silent orders of Snow, filled the cup and sat back down. "Rumors?" He asked again, more grim than before.
"Where facts fail, hearsay doesn't." Scarus replied. "And rumors go that Cinna is a complete unknown. No one on the streets was willing to talk and those that did, didn't recognize him at all. It's like he's a ghost that appeared out of nowhere to disrupt the games."
"So the rumors were useless." Plutarch tapped his nails against the saucer, spilling some of the tea.
Sera frowned and glanced at the President. "Does it matter where he came from?" She asked carefully, still watching the bleary-eyed President. "I think what he did should matter more."
"And you're right." Plutarch clasped his hands together and leaned forward in his seat. "Listen here boy, stop wasting time digging into something that's not relevant. What you need to do is focus on the present. I admit Cinna was a great designer, a wasted talent but come on, his disruptions took the focus off the games. The last thing I need is for him to take the spotlight away from the games again."
"All the more reason, he should be executed publicly—remind people that the games aren't for them to mess with."
"The star-crossed lovers got more coverage than the games." Sera chimed in and President Snow snapped out of his strange stupor.
"I didn't come out of retirement for this." Plutarch stated.
"Skip the trial for Twelve's stylists only. The escorts should be questioned separately. They've done their jobs to the best of their abilities but," President Snow covered his mouth with the half-bloodied handkerchief once more and let out a quiet cough. "It's clear to me that a few changes must be made and some examples must be set."
Plutarch scoffed and pulled at his collar. The three men were red-faced with blazing eyes that seemed to simultaneously make the room feel hot and cold. Tension was rising and Sera sat back, eying the three men in the room.
"I don't want any executions—public ones especially while the games are going on." Plutarch shifted uncomfortably in his seat again and in his movement, once again knocked over the teacup in front of him. It didn't shatter like the one it had replaced. It simply fell on the table, spilling the tea across the glass table.
"Cinna also seems to be a favorite among the Capitol people." Sera quietly remarked.
President Snow's eyes twitched and he nodded. "So he is." He murmured. "Incredible how anyone connected to Twelve manages to worm their way into the hearts of the people."
"They know how to play—hearts and the games." Plutarch chimed in tiredly and Snow shifted his gaze towards him, narrowing his eyes into piercing sharp daggers. Plutarch seemed to ignore that and motioned to an avox to clean his mess. "I'm going to ask you both to delay any investigations and executions until after the games are done—wait a few months if you have to."
"I think Cinna could tell us about his…friends—making him an…example might give the rebels more time to cause more chaos." She said carefully.
"And I agree." Scarus parroted back what Sera said, twisting her words with more details she purposely left out. "Cinna could lead us to the rebels."
Plutarch shook his head. "Rebels—that sounds ridiculous and a waste of time but that's your job Consul."
Scarus stood abruptly, his fists clenched, eyes locked on Plutarch with barely restrained fury. For a moment, it seemed like he might lunge across the room. Sera could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.
Plutarch, unfazed, smoothly shifted the conversation. "Now, back to the game. Interesting developments as you can see. It appears District Four has formed an alliance with Twelve, Seven, and Three. Unusual, considering Four's past history." He glanced briefly at Snow before continuing. "It's been a while since Four sided with non-Careers." His turned to Sera who ignored him.
Johanna ran across the beach when Caesar's image faded towards Finnick. Wiress followed her behind with Beetee.
President Snow's expression darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Why? Do you have any footage of how that came to be?"
"There's nothing definitive," Plutarch responded, nonchalantly. "But I don't think it matters much in the grand scheme of things especially now that Four is down to just one representative in the arena." His tone was casual, but the implication hung heavy in the air for Sera, the mention of Mags' death confirming what he really meant: Finnick's time was running out.
It wasn't real.
Plutarch didn't mean it but Sera felt her oxygen running out. Her throat seized in and she felt like she was being choked. Her face was turning blue as Caesar on the screen, not a deep blue as Caesar's but a pale sickly blue. She tightened her fist under the table and forced herself to lifelessly stare at the screen and wait.
"It could've happened outside the arena." Sera suggested. "They've all known each other for years."
President Snow sneered and ignored her. "Proceed with your plans. This sudden alliance is not something that happened overnight. It's planned, calculated. I don't know how it happened or who's idea it was. I don't care what you have to do, make sure that alliance dies in that arena."
"I'm sure you'll like the jabberjays."
Sera's head snapped towards Plutarch.
Jabberjays.
Plant Dictionary:
Magnolia - Nobility, Love of Nature
Yarrow - A symbol of love, 'I love you in spite of everything' and Healing